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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349765">Vain. Vicious. Venomous.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumdollz/pseuds/platinumdollz'>platinumdollz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>75th Hunger Games, Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), Cato Hadley - Freeform, District 2 (Hunger Games), District 8, District 8 (Hunger Games), District Two - Freeform, F/M, No Rebellion, No revolution, Not Canon Compliant, Quarter Quell, career pack, careers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:29:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumdollz/pseuds/platinumdollz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The pretty girl with the pretty knife, who wanted to win it all.</p><p>[CATO X OC]</p><p>Cato Hadley, along with other potential tributes from the "Career" districts, decided to put off volunteering for the Games, until the Quarter Quell. At 17, he knew that he had what it would take, but he also knew that at 18, he would be unstoppable. He never expected to meet a girl, who had as much murder in her eyes as he did.</p><p>**This story covers the 75th Games, which marks the Quarter Quell. The events of the Hunger Games book never happened. There is no threat of rebellion. Katniss did not volunteer for Prim in the 74th Hunger Games.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cato (Hunger Games)/Original Character(s), Cato (Hunger Games)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ONE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>before we get into it...</p><p>The events of the Hunger Games book never happened. Katniss did not volunteer for Prim in the 74th Hunger Games. There is no hope for rebellion. The Games shall go on.</p><p>Rather than compete in the 74th Games, favored potential tributes from Districts One and Two chose to wait and volunteer for the Quarter Quell.</p><p>—All rights go to Suzanne Collins, as I own nothing</p><p>Hello everyone! I am super happy to begin this story &amp; explore the Career pack in a different light. I have so many exciting ideas about the arena &amp; the twist for the Quarter Quell. I love comments, so please drop those (the more unhinged, the better)</p><p> </p><p>**Cross-posted on Wattpad under the same user</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maven's name was called out by District Eight's escort.</p><p>The other seventeen year old girls all turned to face her. Most looked unfazed, some smirked, a few looked relieved, none looked in pity.</p><p>She stood frozen in her spot. Five seconds. Five seconds was the amount of time Maven gave herself to react, to process.</p><p>Five. Her fingers found themselves tangled in the skirt of her blue dress. The feeling of through fabric distracted her for half of a second.</p><p>Four. The escort looked towards Maven's section, after noting the head turns.</p><p>Three. Cameras. This was being live-streamed to all of Panem.</p><p>Two. She found one. A camera-man was crouched in front of the stage.</p><p>One. All eyes were on her.</p><p>The Capitol did not know who they had just invited to star in their show.</p><p>Maven forcefully curled her lips into a grin, before walking up to the stage. She made sure that there was a little bounce in her step, hoping that it would come across as sauntering.</p><p>There were five steps. She counted them in her head, one, two three, four, five.</p><p>The face of her district members all stared back at her. She felt nothing. There was no friendly face in the crowd. No one that would really miss her. And no one that she would miss.</p><p>She could not even force herself to listen to the male tribute's name. She was too lost in her thoughts. How should she act? What will she do in the Arena? How will she get sponsors? She wanted to grind her teeth together.</p><p>Her partner joined her on stage. He was tall. Probably older than her. Eighteen if she had to guess. He looked close to tears.</p><p>"I now present you the tributes of District Eight!" Her escort cried out triumphantly, waving the two envelopes.</p><p>Maven snuck a look at her close to tears partner, then at her deadpanned district, and she could not stop herself. She giggled. The sound itself was soft, but the crowd had been dead silent. Her smile faltered. Oops.</p><p>Her partner's head jutted towards her. An indignant expression on his face. I fucking hate it here, Maven thought.</p><p>No one showed up to greet her in the private rooms. But then again, Maven had not expected anyone to.</p><p>Her mother died in childbirth, her father later died of "a broken heart". How romantic.</p><p>This left five year-old Maven, orphaned and alone. Save for an aunt, who made minimal effort to raise her. Really, all the woman taught Maven was how to bat her eyes for money. Maven never could find it in herself to fault her aunt for that, though. After all, it was survival. District eight was a poor district and they had to eat.</p><p>Her aunt remarried, when Maven was fifteen. The man already had kids of his own. His home was already full. So Maven was left alone, once again.</p><p>With no skills and no job, Maven put her aunt's lessons to good use. She did what she had to do.</p><p>This didn't help her in making friends. The kids at her school would talk. There were whispers of what little orphan Maven did to get food. But Maven tried not to care. After all, it was for survival. </p><p>And so was the Hunger Games, she thought. It was all about survival.</p><p>She sat alone in the room for what felt like an hour. Her fingers traced shapes into the velvet couch.</p><p>Those kids from school never understood. None of them had ever been as alone as Maven was. They all had at least one person. One person to look after them. God, how she sometimes wished she had one person, too.</p><p>But that was just a stupid childish dream. This was real life.</p><p>She deserved to live. She deserved to eat. No matter how. No matter how those kids would laugh when Maven came to class with a mark on her neck. I had to live.</p><p>And I have to live now too.</p><p>Maven realized that she wanted to win.</p><p>Winning meant that she would never have to worry about money again. She would never have to walk outside of the Head Peacekeeper's house again.</p><p>It was freedom, in a way. Freedom at the cost of twenty-three children's lives. She stopped and drug her nails into her palm.</p><p>No, she couldn't think like that. Regardless of Maven's actions in the Games, only one person would be going home. The rest were all dead either way. The question is whether or not Maven had the determination to be the one to do it. To win.</p><p>Her mind was made up. She hadn't waited on disgusting men at the age of fifteen to turn over and give up now. She would win.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. TWO</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What's your name again?" Maven asked, as she spared a glance to the stoic boy next to her. Her fingers drummed against the white tablecloth.</p><p>The District Eight escort, who she learned was named Crinoline, had gone off to find their mentor, after directing them to the train's dining car.</p><p>From the couches, to the rugs, to tapestries, the room was rich in fabrics. Maven wondered if this was designed in homage to Eight. Her district was responsible for producing textiles, so it was likely that everything had originated there.</p><p>Her partner continued to sit in silence.</p><p>Maven's lip quirked into a scowl. This had not been her first attempt to sway the boy into conversation. Not that she wanted to get friendly with him, exactly. After all, his reaction after being Reaped made him look weak. It made her week by extension. He was already a liability and they had not even made it to the Capitol yet. The boy was sure to die in the upcoming weeks.</p><p>But Maven tried to engage with him, because she simply hated silence. Always had.</p><p>A woman walked with a warm smile, "Morning, kiddos."</p><p>Her name was Leeme and she was the only living District Eight victor.</p><p>'Good morning, you have been selected for the pleasure of battling to the death on live television.' Maven smiled in amusement, as she took a sip from her cup. "That's an odd thing to say," she remarked.</p><p>"Well I didn't say it was a good one. Did I?" Leeme poured herself a cup of tea.</p><p>Fair enough.</p><p>Drinking tea was common in Eight. It was easy to wander out into the meadows and find the right leaves. However, the painted teacup that Leeme handled with such practice was not.</p><p>Maven wanted the mentor to take her seriously. This woman would be responsible for getting her sponsors. You could be a charismatic killing machine, but without sponsors, you were already dead. "I'm Maven." She stated with authority. She met Leeme's eyes.</p><p>Leeme's smile dropped, "I know your name, Maven," the woman looked at the other tribute, "and Draze. It means nothing, but I am sorry that this has happened to the two of you."</p><p>She let out a laugh, "Well, it cannot possibly be as bad as last year."</p><p>Maven would not say that she had an aversion to violence or witnessing violence. But last year. Last year was something else entirely.</p><p>She dabbed her lip with a napkin, "I for one am counting my blessings."</p><p>Draze bit at his lower lip. He cannot possibly cry again. He already had after Crinoline told them to "eat and enjoy".</p><p>Leeme rescued the boy, "let's please not talk about last year."</p><p>Maven recognized that Leeme was probably right. The 74th Hunger Games was taboo to talk about, even in Eight. It would be bad of her to slip and risk a Capitolian overhearing her.</p><p>No one was to discuss the 24 dead children or the Gamemaker, whose severed head was sent on the Victory Tour.</p><p>Crinoline had been relatively quiet during this entire exchange. Maven found this odd. She had always thought the woman as bubbly on-stage, but at this moment, she looked like she was about to fall asleep.</p><p>"After you two eat a bit more, we can retire to the film car and watch the Reapings," Leeme smiled down at them. She cut a bite of steak and plopped it into her mouth.</p><p>"How did you win?" Draze blurted out. His eyes had gone wide.</p><p>"He speaks," Maven giggled with a smirk.</p><p>He shot her a look. And glares, apparently.</p><p>How thankful she was to have a partner that had no sense of humor and appeared to hate her.</p><p>Leeme held a finger up to them, a signal to wait, as she finished chewing her food.</p><p>The table sat in silence for a few seconds, before Maven decided to answer for her. "She hid under a bush for the entirety of the Game and then bashed the last tribute's skull in with her canteen."</p><p>Maven paused, before adding, "while he was sleeping," after a thought.</p><p>Preoccupied with having another sip of her drink, Maven missed Leeme's flinch. The liquid was pink and sweet, yet sour at the same time. She liked it.</p><p>After being met with silence, Maven looked up. "Right?" She asked, faux-sweetly.</p><p>Crinoline hid her face, behind her napkin, but it didn't disguise the upturned lines of her mouth.</p><p>"I-" Leeme sucked in a breath. Her mouth kept opening, as if to form words, but nothing came out.</p><p>Maven began to regret her comment. It was too good of an opening, but it wouldn't push her mentor to like her more.</p><p>"That was uncalled for," Draze said quietly. He looked down to his lap.</p><p>Maven pursed her lips. He had been the one to ask Leeme about her Game.</p><p>Leeme met his eyes and nodded in thanks.</p><p>Maven tried to not roll her eyes.</p><p>She tried to move the conversation along. "What advice would you give us, in terms of strategy?" The word advice was used lightly. After all, Leeme won because she had been so unbearably boring that the Gamemakers and tributes forgot about her existence, up until she was in the final two. Maven scrunched her nose at the thought. It wasn't exactly a strategy.</p><p>The mentor did not hesitate. "Keep your humanity."</p><p>Draze looked at her in a way that made Maven know that he intended to take that to heart. He would not take a life and for that reason, he would die.</p><p>--</p><p>Unlike the training scores reveal, the district Reapings were not moderated by one of the Capitol's tv hosts like Caesar Flickerman.</p><p>Leeme, Draze, and Maven sat silently through the introduction video. It was just as dull as it had been that morning.</p><p>With all of the money the Capitol had, Maven thought that they could invest a bit more money into the production. It was boring and drab. If that video was the sole thing responsible for keeping peace in the nation, then there would have been a Second Rebellion ages ago.</p><p>Maven sighed loudly, from the cushy chair, she had claimed. It was pretty pink in color and she seemed to shrink into the cushions.</p><p>Her district mates were talking on the couch. Their voices were too low to hear.</p><p>She swung her legs over one end of the chair and her head over the other. "...Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever," Maven parroted along, while she ran a hand through her straight hair.</p><p>She had taken pride in her curls that morning. Last night, she had slept with them in metal rods, called curlers, which was unformatable but decidedly worth it. Especially since she had been Reaped. The little extra care that had gone into her hair would make her most desirable to sponsors.</p><p>The other conversation had apparently lulled.</p><p>Maven knew without looking that Draze would be shooting her a look. The boy had a problem with every word Maven said. Why not have some fun with him?</p><p>She rolled her body, so that she was kneeling sideways in her chair, and leaned towards him. The blonde tugged at a strand of her hair. Maven peaked up at Draze from under her lashes, "that's my favorite part," she whispered breathlessly, in reference to her comment that had set him off.</p><p>She knew her goal was achieved, when his eyes seemed to bug.</p><p>Maven grinned in triumph. "I'm kidding, of course," she directed to Leeme, helpfully.</p><p>The victor muttered something that sounded a lot like "are you?"</p><p>That was the big question, wasn't it. Was she?</p><p>The video screen had cut to a commercial, which was advertising some film from the Olden Days, about a girl, who gave her baby brother away to a monster. It looked boring.</p><p>But Maven imagined that if she were that girl, then she would never have made that mistake. She could not imagine anything more despicable than abandoning family.</p><p>"It's starting," Draze clenched his fists.</p><p>District One was first, as always. When it came to districts One and Two, the names that were pulled from the glass bowls were irrelevant. In every game Maven had ever seen, two people would volunteer for the spots. It was an honor in those districts. The ultimate reward, after dedicating your childhood to becoming the perfect machine.</p><p>District Ones tributes were known for their lethal charm. Something that had made Maven secretly root for their tributes in almost every game.</p><p>Her favorite victor was from One: Cashmere.</p><p>The 15 year old had made a high personal training score, but was written off as a ditzy flirt in her interview. Once the games had begun, she stayed below the radar in her alliance, letting her partner and a girl from Two take the leadership roles.</p><p>"Career packs", which was the name Eight had for the alliances that would almost always form between One and Two, stuck together until they had hunted down every other tribute. After that point, the pack had served its purpose. From there it was a quick battle to the death.</p><p>But, Cashmere had taken a different route in her Game. That night, the pack had eliminated all but two tributes. They had been giddy. Jokes and stories were exchanged. Maven was pretty sure that someone had even danced around the fire. Everything had been going perfect, until Cashmere tricked the boy from Two to go with her into the woods. She had been making eyes at him, since the Tribute Parade. By this point, he had one thing on his mind. But so did Cashmere.</p><p>He let his guard down and she broke a rock over his head. He was unconscious, but not dead. A smart move, because if a cannon had gone off, she would have never succeeded in what she did next.</p><p>Cashmere waited around, until the rest of the alliance had fallen asleep. First, she slit her partner's throat, before battling it out with the girl from Two. After killing her, she went back to the unconscious boy and made quick work of him. The three most lethal tributes died in the timeframe of twenty minutes.</p><p>From there, Cashmere easily hunted down the last two tributes. She was crowned the next morning.</p><p>Maven had liked Cashmere during her Game. She grew to love her after she started working. They had been the same age you see. Cashmere won at 15, Maven worked at 15. Everytime she would rewatch those Games, she saw a girl that was not much different from her. She noted the extra stabs Cashmere had plunged into the boy from Two's chest. Even after the canon had gone off, she had not stopped. That was someone else who had also been written off. Someone else who had also been looked at like no more than a toy.</p><p>Cashmere got the last laugh.</p><p>There she was now. On the video screen, the now twenty year old stood amongst her fellow victors. A proud smile on her face.</p><p>Maybe if Cashmere was selected to mentor, Maven would get to see her in real-life.</p><p>Shocking to no one, a boy and a girl volunteered.</p><p>Dimity and Quartz. Dimity was a tall girl with long inky braids. She smiled in gratitude when her district applauded her. Her partner was a slimmer than the usual tribute from One, but he had a large scar running over his face that made it clear he was prepared for the fight.</p><p>"Your typical careers then," Leeme wrote off.</p><p>Draze looked tense, "do you think it's true? What they say about One and Two?"</p><p>"What about them?" Maven asked. She eyed her partner.</p><p>"That they have to have already killed someone, in order to be considered ready to volunteer."</p><p>Maven's mouth formed an O shape.</p><p>She had never heard that before, but then again, even if it had been common knowledge amongst her classmates, there was no way that one of them would have told her.</p><p>The rumor was believable. No tribute from either district had ever appeared to struggle with their first kill.</p><p>From a strategic perspective, it also made sense. Hesitation was what got the majority of tributes killed in the bloodbath. If a district only sent in experienced killers, they were bound to have more victors.</p><p>Or it could be total lies. Made up by the outlier districts to warrant why they lost so many tributes to One and Two.</p><p>Cheers cried out from the screen.</p><p>"Fuck this," Draze grounded out. He got up and left the car.</p><p>Maven's head shot towards the screen in curiosity. She had lost focus during her mental rant. District Two's tributes were both on the stage.</p><p>Maven knew why Draze had stormed out.</p><p>Danger was the word that came to mind.</p><p>The boy was massive. He towered over the escort and his partner, and even some of the previous victors, who stood behind him. He also had a look on his face that showed pure excitement.</p><p>The camera angle switched and for a moment the tribute was bathed in the light of the sun. His golden hair shined. But the most striking thing about him was the way the light made his light eyes look inhuman. Beautiful.</p><p>It was a shame that over the course of the Games, he would probably die.</p><p>The petite girl looked just as intimidating. Dark hair, dark grin. The way she turned her head around made it appear that she was already looking for a fight.</p><p>The two tributes locked eyes with each other and the boy seemed to beam. The girl let out a loud echoing laugh, in response.</p><p>They were breathtaking and ready to kill.</p><p>Maven almost felt bad for District Three for having to be the follow-up act to Two. Potential sponsors, who would be watching the tapes would immediately disregard them. Eyes still partially blinded from Two.</p><p>Two districts to always note were Seven and Ten. The lumber and livestock districts.</p><p>Both districts had their children working from a young age with axes and knives. While not exactly the killing academies from One and Two, their kids were still trained to do damage.</p><p>How many differences could there be from axing down trees and slaughtering animals to doing the same to tributes?</p><p>Johanna Mason was a lesson not bound to be forgotten anytime soon. The year after her win, Seven's kids were the first to die.</p><p>This was pretty common for any year after an outlying district won. The others picked them off, almost as if in punishment.</p><p>Seven's tribute was a strong looking girl and boy. She added them to her mental list of threats, along with One and Two.</p><p>District Ten had a sly looking boy and a little girl. The boy made her wary, but the girl was so young. She could not have been older than 13, so Maven disregarded her, after giving herself five seconds to pity the thing.</p><p>When it finally came Twelve's turn, Maven sat up straight in her seat. The entirety of Panem was probably doing the same. After last year's disaster, it was expected.</p><p>As always the tributes appeared starved and depressed.</p><p>The girl was frail and crying.</p><p>Maven was reminded of her crying partner. Maybe Draze could make a little girlfriend, before the Games began.</p><p>The boy from Twelve was not much better, but he at least had some height to him.</p><p>A boy shouldered his way through the crowd. "I volunteer!"</p><p>Oh shit.</p><p>He was tall and surprisingly sturdy. He stomped his way up the stairs and proclaimed his name to be Kohl.</p><p>He paid no mind to his partner or the boy he had replaced. He stood out with a grim look on his face. Why would he volunteer?</p><p>Maven shivered.</p><p>Leeme nodded over to her. "In case, it wasn't obvious, that boy-" she pointed to the screen, "-will be a problem."</p><p>That was the first that Maven had heard her mentor say that she agreed with.</p><p>--</p><p>The announcement came during dinner.</p><p>Maven had been in the middle of buttering a gooey roll, when the power cut off. It was only for half a second, but she still shrieked. Then flushed in embarrassment.</p><p>The video screen lit up. A man with long pink hair greeted them. "Good evening, Panem. My name is Marcellus Jackal. It is my great pleasure to announce that for the 75th Annual Hunger Games, a twist will be in play. It has been a time honored tradition that the Capitol allows one tribute to walk out from the celebratory pageant known as the Hunger Games. A tribute spared for every year the games have been played. A show of mercy, if you will. In acknowledgment of last year's Game, the honorable Capitol will keep that promise. We now announce that two victors may emerge from this year's games."</p><p>Maven's jaw dropped.</p><p>The man continued, "expect great things from this year's Games. I assure you that there will never be another Quell like it."</p><p>Maven was still frozen in shock, but Leeme seemed to snap out of her own shock quickly. "Well we knew that there would be a twist."</p><p>"Can't say that I expected this one, though."</p><p>Leeme nodded in agreement. She looked wary now, "I would wager that this will not be the only twist we will hear about." She looked back at Maven. "According to the whispers in the Capitol, Marcellus Jackal is not a man to be taken lightly. He is said to specialize in Arena design."</p><p>Maven clenched her fingers in her dress. There was no need for Leeme to explain what that meant. Her and the other tributes were to be put straight into Hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And let the Games begin!! </p><p>NEXT UP! The tribute parade</p><p>In case it wasn't clear, the only canon tributes are Clove and Cato, while everyone else is a figment of my imagination. I really wanted to include Glimmer and Marvel, but I have some ideas about a story of their own. So if anyone would be interested in that, let me know or give me a follow!</p><p>As always, I loved to chat, so drop some comments, I'll definitely respond</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. THREE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hmm so I just realized that the first chapters have a ton of typos and that everything that I italicized did not work. So oops. Hopefully it worked in this one. </p><p>Anyways! This chapter was so fun to write.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a moment of temporary helpfulness, Leeme advised, “don’t let them see you crack. Stand with your back straight when we arrive.” </p><p>Maven thought that the mentor’s words seemed to be more directed to herself than to her tributes.</p><p>Everyone was in various states of finishing up breakfast. Draze was staring into a fruit bowl and Leeme was sipping on some alcoholic drink.</p><p>Meanwhile, Maven was pacing the room. She was getting antsy. It didn’t help that Crinoline had given her some drink that she “swore by”. It made her heart beat faster, but Maven loved it. If she won, her house would be filled with <em> espresso </em>. </p><p>The cause of her anxiety, excluding the obvious factor of her potential violent death, was her “mentor”. Excluding Leeme’s latest comment, the woman refused to discuss strategy. </p><p>Maven had even tried to ask the most innocent of questions. Leeme did not budge. </p><p>The victor loathed her involvement in the Games. Maven suspected that Leeme preferred the deaths of her own tributes, rather than risk feeling responsible when they killed. </p><p>It was selfish.</p><p>It also meant that Maven had nothing to learn aboard the train. No, any help that she hoped to receive would have to be directly from the Capitol.</p><p>The room suddenly darkened, as the train pulled into a tunnel.</p><p>“Is this the Capitol?” Maven asked as she looked out the window. </p><p>“It is,” Leeme hummed in confirmation. She acted solemn. Almost as if she were the one preparing for battle. </p><p>“Shouldn’t we go say hi?” She questioned. “Wave to the people?”</p><p>Draze interrupted her, “oh there is no chance that I am waving to those sadists.” </p><p>“Fine then. Die in the arena, but I would like to live and those <em> sadists </em> will pay my way through.”</p><p>Crinoline stood up from the couch. “Come along,” she pulled Maven with her, “I want to show you something.”</p><p>Confused, but wanting an escape, Maven immediately followed her.</p><p>The woman led her through different compartments, towards the back of the train. </p><p>Maven looked at Crinoline with a questioning gaze, as they walked. </p><p>“When I was a girl, I used to play a boardgame with my friends,” Crinoline paused. “Do they have board games in the districts?”</p><p>“I know what they are.” Maven replied. She had never played one before, but she had seen some of the wealthier children playing.</p><p>Crinoline nodded, “well, you had to pick a figure to be in the game. Each persona had their own name, look, and skills.”</p><p>Maven wondered where this was heading. </p><p>“Every time we played, we would all fight over who got to be this one character. She didn’t have the best name or the most skills. But she wore this pretty green dress, you see.” Crinoline clasped Maven’s hand tighter. </p><p>Crinoline was looking for Maven to understand, to have this big revelation. The trouble was that Maven had no clue what the answer was. “The games aren’t about skill?”</p><p>Crinoline nodded, “they aren’t. It is true that the tributes who become victors are some of the most skilled-”</p><p>“But that isn’t why they win?” Maven probed, interrupting her.</p><p>“No it isn’t.”</p><p>The two came to a stop. They stood at the very end of the train.</p><p>Maven looked at the woman facing her, “you seem to have a lot of thoughts about the games.”</p><p>Crinoline was so much different than she imagined she would have been. You watch someone on your television screen for years and think that you know them. Maven knew nothing. She realized that now.</p><p>Crinoline let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, “it seems so.”</p><p>She moved in closer to Maven, “districts like one, two, and four. They come from the most beloved districts and they come in trained, lethal. They have the best names and skills on their card. But this is the Capitol,” her hands came out in a flourish, “and here in the Capitol we let our whims run wild.”</p><p>She didn’t have to be the best tribute to back and to be honest, she couldn’t. Like Crinoline said, she didn’t have a good card. But, if Maven was correct in discerning Crinoline’s meaning, she didn’t need to be. She only had to be compelling. Compelling enough for the sophisticated citizens of the Capitol to overlook her card. She could be the pretty green dress.</p><p>“Make them love you.” Crinoline’s gaze was hard.</p><p> “Then use their love to kill every last tribute,” Maven furthered.</p><p>The escort grabbed Maven’s shoulders and turned her in a circle. She was surveying her for something. Seeming appeased, the woman nodded her head and gave Maven a slight push to a door. “Their love awaits.”</p><p>Maven looked from the door handle to Crinoline. She might save me, she thought.</p><p>She stepped through the door.</p><p>Deafening screeches.</p><p>Maven had stepped out onto a balcony, which overlooked hordes of bright people. The train had slowed down. She assumed it was so that the people could get a nice look at their entertainment.</p><p>Showtime, Maven stepped out with a grin. </p><p>The yells intensified.</p><p>This moment counted. This moment was more than making them love her. She had to prove her love to them. They needed to see her as one of them. So she made her smile wider and opened her arms to the masses. Like she was embracing them in one hug. <em> I’m here. I’m here and I do not intend on leaving.  </em></p><p>Maven had never been liked as a girl. She had never seen so many smiling at her. </p><p>The train had slowed down even more. They must be getting closer and closer to the parade center. </p><p>“Eight, Eight! Look at me, Eight!” A little girl’s voice screeched out louder than the rest. She was sitting on her father’s shoulders. Her hair was braided into a cone above her head. </p><p>Maven decided to show her a little twirl. She blew her a kiss. The girl loved it. </p><p>
  <em> Like me. </em>
</p><p>A group of teen girls were jumping up and down. They must have been her age. </p><p>In another life, she could have been one of them. Born into the Capitol. Skipping class with friends because she was just so excited to go get a sneak peak of the tributes. </p><p>Too bad life was a cruel vindictive bitch.</p><p>Maven gave the girls a wink and a fluttering wave. </p><p>
  <em> Love me. </em>
</p><p>The train pulled on and Maven saw that the show was about to be over. A large grey building was approaching. </p><p>Giving one last broad grin, she spun on her heels. Her hair flipped as she turned towards the door. A wink and then she was gone.</p><p>
  <em> Save me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Her stylists were very expressive about how thankful they were to have older tributes that they could “sex up” this year</p><p>Maven had to force the smile to stay on her face. She was immediately concerned about what the flamboyant Capitolian stylists considered a “sexed up” outfit. </p><p>Tulle pulled out a giant dress. </p><p>Maven could not stop her jaw from dropping. </p><p>The first thought to enter her head was that there would be room for Draze in their chariot.</p><p>The thing itself was jarring. The top was fairly normal for Capitol standards. Long sleeved with a wide neckline that dipped down to her navel. She made a note to be careful when turning her body, in fear for a nip slip. The skirt was massive. It seemed that in the theme of “textiles”, Tulle had tried to add a panel of every fabric in existence.  The only thing unifying the dress was that it was all in shades of icy blue.</p><p>They zipped her up and Maven physically stumbled from the weight of the dress.</p><p>She pursed her lips, as she examined herself in a mirror. Hideous but not unflattering. </p><p>Her “team” informed her that they would have to take the elevator to get to the loading area. </p><p>This was where she was reunited with her beloved partner.</p><p>The man who stood next to him, who she assumed to be his stylist, cried out, “he won’t wear it!” </p><p>Tulle immediately went to lay a hand on his arm. An effort to be comforting. The man began raving.</p><p>Draze had his hands in his pockets and was leaning against a wall. </p><p>He took a look at her and raised an eyebrow, “you look like a fool.”</p><p>She did. </p><p>Maven glanced at her stylist, who seemed to have not heard the comment, but she was not about to risk it. “Well, I love it!” She turned her nose up at him. </p><p>She didn’t, but she needed to make friends with the people tasked to help her stay alive.</p><p>Draze once again, as always, was an obstacle. </p><p>“What won’t he wear?” She asked Tulle. </p><p>Draze’s stylist held up a vest, made in the same style of her skirt. </p><p>Draze was currently only wearing a pair of flared pants. Also like her skirt, hideous.</p><p>“Just wear it, Draze.” Maven told him.</p><p>His nostrils flared, “I will not be a toy for them to parade around.”</p><p>Don’t you see, silly boy, you already are. Every tribute was a toy of the Capitols. </p><p>Maven pushed the thought away before glaring him at him. “This is the Games. This is what is done. You wear the outfits, you go to the parade, and you get sponsors.”</p><p>Tulle went off with Chiffon, the other stylist, to look for other top options for Draze. </p><p>The doors of the elevator refused to close. </p><p>They stood there in silence for about thirty seconds, before Maven couldn’t keep her mouth shut. </p><p>“You are such a child, just put on the vest!” </p><p>He looked at her in anger. Wait no, in disgust. “I have too much dignity to become an object in exchange for favors.”</p><p>Maven saw red. She whipped around to face her partner, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>The asshole had the gall to look smug. “You know exactly what I said. I’ve heard the rumors. I know what you are.”</p><p>
  <em> What she was. </em>
</p><p>She shoved the taller boy against the wall. </p><p>Maven wrapped a hand around his throat. “You know nothing,” her teeth were bared. “You’re going to put on the fucking vest and then go out there and smile like your life depends on it.” She wasn’t choking him enough to cut off air, but hard enough for it to be uncomfortable. Draze’s eyes went wide, as she dug her freshly painted nails in.</p><p>“Because it does. Not because of sponsors, but because of me. Because if you go out there and fuck up like you did at the Reaping, I am going to kill you. The second that cannon goes off in the Arena, I am going to plunge a knife into your eye and leave you to bleed out there.”</p><p>A throat cleared.</p><p>Maven and Draze’s heads both jerked towards the elevator doors that were still open. </p><p>District Two’s tributes both had huge smirks on their face, while a stylist stood next to them looking horrified.</p><p><em> Motherfucker </em>.</p><p>Maven dropped her hand from Draze’s throat. </p><p>The boy instantly shuffled into the opposite corner from her. She rolled her eyes. </p><p>The stylist cleared her throat again, “well,” she clapped, “let’s get a move on.” She ushered Two into the elevator. </p><p>The District Two girl’s smirk had slid off into a scowl, as she stalked into the elevator. Maven had the feeling that was her normal expression. She stood a foot in front of Draze. </p><p>He looked to be regretting his decision to jump away from Maven. Smart boy. </p><p>The boy from Two moved to stand next to his partner, but was given a slight push from the stylist, who placed herself in the middle of the trio.</p><p>The stylist didn’t want to stand next to her.</p><p>While his partner had lost her amusement, the boy had not. He still held a dark grin. It was unsettling.</p><p>The elevator was in silence once again. </p><p>Maven took the time to run her eyes over Two’s costumes. Both were dusted in a pale grey paint and wore togas. </p><p>The boy’s shiny hair had been dimmed to a charcoal. Nearly identical to his raven-haired partner. A pity. </p><p>Both of their faces were contoured and shaded in more shades of grey. The coloring should have made them look washed out, but it didn't. They looked sharp, refined.</p><p>District Two was responsible for defense and masonry. </p><p>Making these two dressed as ancient stone statues. </p><p>Clever, Maven thought. She had never seen it done before.</p><p>The girl finally spoke. “Why aren’t we moving?”  Her voice had a pleasant rasp to it. Though, it didn’t match her girlish exterior, especially in the costume. </p><p>The stylists had woven her hair through a laurel wreath, after setting them into waves. </p><p>“Do not stress, sweet Clove. Scrunching your forehead will ruin the makeup,” the stylist said soothingly. </p><p>Clove looked ready to combust at the word sweet.</p><p>The stylist continued, “the elevator doesn’t move unless the tributes in it are accompanied by one of their stylists. So I suppose that we’re waiting on…” Her voice trailed off. </p><p>She looked Maven up and down. “Eight’s?” The woman guessed.</p><p>Her perusal caused Clove and the boy to face Maven as well. Their gazes were the same as they had been since they had volunteered. Calculating.</p><p>The two intimidated her. The boy especially. His smirk had turned into a serious gaze, so quick. Robotic almost. They were evaluating threats. Looking to see if she might be one.</p><p>Maven felt something in her throat. She wanted to go climb into a bed. Wanted to close her eyes and fall asleep. Wanted to forget this whole thing. </p><p>But they were all in the middle of playing a Game. </p><p>And Maven needed to win. So she didn’t react to her stomach squeezing. </p><p>She sighed and examined her nails, “that’s the one.” </p><p>Her voice sounded detached. Exactly how she wanted it to.</p><p>The paint on her nails was a pretty eggshell color. The edges of it remained undamaged, despite being dug into Draze’s throat.</p><p>Tulle returned in a panicked tornado. “We only have a crop top!” She waved a tiny scrap of fabric over her head. </p><p>Maven couldn’t stop a grin. Tulle was… funny.</p><p>Back in the corner, Draze guffawed.</p><p>Maven grinded her teeth. </p><p>“No need,” Maven said sunnily to Tulle. She whipped her head around to face her partner, hair smacking the scary boy next to her, “he’ll wear the vest.” Maven’s tone didn’t leave room for debate.</p><p>The boy next to her, chuckled quietly. His breath tickled her ear, “down, girl,” he whispered. She suppressed a shiver.</p><p>Maven’s glare turned to him, but there was no heat behind it.</p><p>His smirk grew.</p><p>No one else appeared to have heard the quiet exchange, as Tulle looked questioningly to Draze. Her partner gulped, but nodded, though he still looked pissed. </p><p>Tulle looked like she was going to cry out of  relief. </p><p>The elevator finally started to move and within seconds, they had arrived at the send off. </p><p>The doors opened with a ding.</p><p>“Come along, Cato, Clove,” Two’s stylist said, frazzled. “We’ll run out of time and I still need to paint your bodies more.”</p><p>She attempted to grab both tributes by the wrist, but was rebuked as both ripped their wrists back. Clove hissed. </p><p>To her credit, the stylist carried on, as though nothing had happened and led them away. They moved to a covered area that looked to be dedicated to touch ups. Away from the chariots.</p><p>Cato spared a glance over his shoulder. That unsettling smirk on his face as he made eye contact with Maven.</p><p>It was only a second, but Maven found her chest a little tight. </p><p>As he walked away, he still held her attention.</p><p>The boy’s toga was pinned over one shoulder leaving the rest to drape across his chest. Over half his back was uncovered, which revealed itself to be ridged. The grey body paint seemed to have defined his muscles even more.</p><p>It was distracting. Maven found herself staring.</p><p>She would have to watch out for Cato.</p><p>It wasn’t enough that he was trained. No, he also had to be decent to look at, too. She remembered his dark grin and the way he carried himself at his Reaping. He would have no problem killing.</p><p>“Eight’s chariot is this way, come on, sweeties.” Tulle led Maven and her sulking partner down a line of chariots. </p><p>Maven stood next to their chariot, bored beyond belief. </p><p>Crinoline and Chiffon were both trying to button Draze into his vest and were apparently struggling.</p><p>The other tributes around them were all also in various states of getting touched up.</p><p>A hand wrapped around her bicep in a tight grip. Maven winced and let out a gasp.</p><p>It was Leeme. </p><p>The woman had her classic bland smile on her face.</p><p>“You’re hurting me,” Maven spat out, she tried to wrench her arm away.</p><p>Leeme laughed like Maven had whispered a little joke to her.</p><p>Maven looked around.</p><p>The rest of her team and her partner weren’t paying attention. No one was.</p><p>“What are you doing?” She demanded. She tried to twist out, but Leeme’s grip tightened.</p><p>The woman looked down at her. Whatever Leeme seemed to see in Maven’s eyes, made her own narrow. “When you step onto that chariot, you represent Eight. I will not stand for a repeat of the Reaping.”</p><p>
  <em> A repeat of the Reaping?  </em>
</p><p>Her laugh, Maven realized. When she laughed onstage. That was what Leeme was mad about. </p><p>Leeme continued, “You may be no better than that little sociopath from Two, but on that chariot you are District Eight.”</p><p>The girl from Two, Clove, laughed at her Reaping.</p><p>Maven finally stamped her heel onto her mentor’s foot. Her skirt hid the action so no one would notice.</p><p>As Leeme winced, Maven nearly fell backwards, as she tried to step away.</p><p>Her arm throbbed.</p><p>“District Eight means nothing to me,” Maven grounded out. </p><p>Before Leeme could react or grab her again, Maven pulled herself into the chariot.</p><p>There was no way for her mentor to grab her again and not be seen. </p><p>Leeme walked over to Draze, whispered something in his ear, before moving away.</p><p>Maven put a hand over her chest. Her heart and head were both aching. </p><p>A glance proved that the dozens of people surrounding her, all remained clueless to what had transpired.</p><p>A voice announced that tributes were to be loaded up.</p><p>It took several minutes for her stylists to arrange her skirt around Draze. But Maven was off in a daze.</p><p>Leeme had been able to grab her and hold her for several minutes. Maven had been helpless.</p><p>She had never considered herself to be strong, but she had thought she would have been able to fend herself off against an out of shape, middle-aged woman. </p><p>What would she do in an arena full of people like Clove and Cato? </p><p>For the first time since the Reaping, Maven felt fear.</p><p>But she was certain about one thing. Leeme had caught her off guard today. That was all. </p><p>Maven would make sure that it would never happen again.</p><p>As the chariots poured out and the screams roared. Maven found waving and smirking almost calming. It was mindless. It was simply reacting to the crowd.</p><p>But even that monotonous act was unable to keep her heart from palpitating. </p>
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